


'Tis the Season

by emmerrr



Series: To live will be an awfully big adventure [17]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Christmas Jumpers, Fluff, M/M, Warm and Happy Feelings, festive fluff if you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: “Hi,” Neil says, a little breathlessly, and Andrew turns around. Neil’s sure now that Andrew’s facing him, and he tilts his head to the side, unable to stop the slight smile he can feel tugging at his lips.Andrew stares, then he huffs, then he rolls his eyes. “What, Neil.”“Nothing,” Neil says, but he’s fully grinning now, and he takes a step closer. “It’s just – did you know that you were wearing my hideous Christmas jumper?”“I’m not blind, Neil.”“That’s sort of my point.”





	'Tis the Season

**Author's Note:**

> my final tumblr prompt which was just supposed to be one character walking in on the other in their clothes -- it was my choice to make it christmassy! (this might be my personal favourite but I'm a sucker for christmas)

They have the Christmas jumpers for no other reason than because Nicky bought them. A Fox Christmas party for which attendance was mandatory had included a less than polite (courtesy of Allison) request that everyone dress festive, and Nicky must have known that left to their own devices, Neil and Andrew would not enter into the spirit. (The only reason he hadn’t also purchased one for Aaron was because Katelyn had saved him the trouble; it matched her own.)

Neil’s is loud and garish; bright red and patterned with alternate rows of Christmas trees, polar bears wearing festive scarves, and gingerbread men. Andrew’s is much subtler, fair isle and navy blue, the only hints of festivity in the snowflakes that line the collar.

They were chosen specifically because Neil would wear whatever he was given and not particularly care thanks to prolonged exposure to the Foxes and their various whims. Andrew, on the other hand, would not take kindly to being forced into a holly jolly jumper. Nicky wanted him to participate, but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries.

It was unexpectedly thoughtful of Nicky, but then again when Neil really thought about it, it wasn’t unexpected at all.

The party came, the jumpers were worn, and then it went and that was that. 

As the years passed, Andrew would still wear his occasionally come the winter time, because it was warm and he was practical, and at least it wasn’t offensively cheerful. Neil didn’t really have cause or inclination to wear his own, but he still kept it. There were always chances of Christmas parties once he was signed to a pro-team, and it didn’t hurt to have something silly to wear in case it was required, especially when the alternative would have been picking out something for himself, or being a party-pooper. (Not that Neil was opposed to being a party-pooper per se, it just tended to make his life easier if he  _wasn’t_.)

Through numerous moves, from suite to suite whilst Neil was still at PSU, to the house in Columbia and then to Neil’s very first apartment, the jumper came with, always working its way into the back of the closet and, for the most part, forgotten about.

Until now.

It’s the first Christmas of Neil’s first year of being signed, and he’s driving home from his final practice of the year, weary but excited. Andrew will be in his apartment when he gets home.

Andrew finished for the holidays the night before and has been driving down through the day, loathe to fly if he can at all help it. Flying saves time, obviously, but seeing as Neil has been out most of the day, it gave Andrew a good excuse not to have to get on an airplane.

Christmas is set to be a quiet affair, as always. There’s a multitude of reasons why they don’t really celebrate, at least not in a big way, but there are aspects that Neil enjoys. He likes the cards his Foxes send from wherever they may be, even the ones from Kevin that inevitably include tips on how to improve their game. What Neil likes  _most_ about the Christmas cards is that they’re always addressed to both him and Andrew. He likes the fact that it’s inevitable that wherever they’ll be for the holidays, they’ll be together.

Neil does have a Christmas tree; a small one in the corner of the living room, because he likes the lights, and Renee made tree ornaments for all the Foxes with their names on them. It’s nice to have his and Andrew’s names hanging close together on the little tree, glowing in the twinkling lights. 

But right now as Neil pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building, he’s not thinking about Christmas cards or the tree, or ornaments or lights. He’s thinking about how Andrew is already inside waiting for him, thanks to the key that  _Neil_ gave  _him_.

It’s an effort not to run up the stairs, but Neil just showered at the stadium and he really doesn’t want to get all sweaty again, especially considering he lives on the 11th floor. Instead he waits a tortuously long time for the elevator, jiggling on his toes with eager anticipation as he watches the floor numbers change with agonising slowness.

Finally, the doors ding open and he rushes out and down the corridor to his apartment, key already in hand. It’s the work of a moment to get inside and Andrew’s name is out of his mouth before the door has even closed behind him.

“In here,” returns Andrew’s familiar drawl, and Neil toes out of his shoes, drops his duffel to the floor, and follows Andrew’s voice to the kitchen.

He’s fully prepared to barrel into Andrew immediately for the kiss he’s been thinking about all day (all week, all month), but he freezes in the doorway when he catches sight of Andrew over by the stove, stirring something in a small saucepan.

“Hi,” Neil says, a little breathlessly, and Andrew turns around. Neil’s sure now that Andrew’s facing him, and he tilts his head to the side, unable to stop the slight smile he can feel tugging at his lips.

Andrew stares, then he huffs, then he rolls his eyes. “What, Neil.”

“Nothing,” Neil says, but he’s fully grinning now, and he takes a step closer. “It’s just – did you know that you were wearing my hideous Christmas jumper?”

“I’m not blind, Neil.”

“That’s sort of my point.”

Andrew sighs and turns back to whatever he has in his pan. “Your apartment is freezing, and all your good hoodies are dirty. When was the last time you did laundry anyway?”

Admittedly, it’s been a while, but Neil also knows that Andrew has plenty of his  _own_ hoodies to wear. The fact that he went searching for something of Neil’s at all was because he wanted to. He wanted to wear something of Neil’s enough that he was willing to put on a jumper so Christmassy that it practically punched you in the face with its festive cheer.

But Neil won’t push his luck, and he won’t make an issue out of it. He crosses the kitchen towards Andrew and then gently hooks his chin over Andrew’s shoulder.

“I’ll do laundry tomorrow,” he promises. “Then you can wear my Foxes hoodie, I know you like that one.”

“It’s big. And soft,” Andrew says, which is an agreement in and of itself.

Neil hums and then presses a soft kiss to Andrew’s neck, not missing Andrew’s telltale shiver. “What are you making?” he mumbles into Andrew’s skin.

“Mulled cider.” 

This makes Neil smile again because it’s another thing about this time of year that he likes, because it’s become somewhat of a private tradition between him and Andrew, free of connotations of anything bad. They don’t really do eggnog, but they do like to curl up on the sofa with a glass or two of mulled cider.

“That sounds perfect,” Neil says, and he pulls away. “I’m gonna go change.”

Andrew latches onto his fingers just as he turns to go. “Wait,” he says. “You forgot something.”

Before Neil can ask what, Andrew is kissing him, and this is what he’s been waiting for. He sinks into it immediately, sliding his fingers through Andrew’s hair, and his one coherent thought is that he wants this every day, every damn day until all of his days are spent.

It used to be a startling thought, but now it’s welcome and grounding and Neil can never get enough.

He runs his hand down Andrews arm and his fingers skim the edge of the jumper sleeve. He feels something, a small button, and he  _remembers_. Neil presses the button.

Lights spark to life on the jumper, intertwined between the adorned gingerbread men, flickering obnoxiously. Andrew stops kissing Neil, steps back, and looks down.

“It lights up,” he says, his tone mildly horrified.

“It lights up,” Neil agrees, valiantly keeping the laugh out of his voice. It’s quite a sight to behold, and Andrew is  _adorable_. Telling him that might not be the wisest idea, however.

“Neil, I  _will_ kill you.”

“I really don’t think you will. You’ve kept me around this long,” Neil says with an unrepentant grin. “Must be some reason.”

Andrew shrugs noncommittally. “Must be.”

It’s a flippant comment, offhand, but it almost freezes Neil in his tracks. It’s hard not to think about how close he was – how close they  _both_ were – to not being able to have this. But now they do, and they both chose it, and they continue to choose it every day.

“Hey,” Neil says, slinking back into Andrew’s orbit. He leans his forehead against Andrew’s and whispers, “I’m glad you’re here.”

It takes just a tilt of Andrew’s head to press their lips together, and poured into it are the words Andrew doesn’t need to say.

 _Me too_  the kiss says.

 _Me too_.


End file.
